Introduction
I once watched a National Geographic documentary on the hunting behaviour of lions. I was treated to a masterclass from an apex predator.
Here’s what I learned. They typically hunt in packs, and the pride will organise itself into specialist roles. Some lions flank the herd looking to select and isolate one victim, while the more vigorous lions chase and capture the unfortunate prey as it flees.
Lions are stealth hunters, so they use their surroundings to conceal their approach. They usually strike at dawn or dusk, using their excellent vision in the half-light to their advantage. Once within range (around 30 meters away), they spring an ambush. This is when the documentary plays exciting music with a pulsating drumbeat.
When the lead lion reaches the zebra or antelope or whatever, it sinks its claws into the victim’s hide and uses its superior weight to pull it to the ground. Then it suffocates its target with mandibles of death, biting into the throat, breaking the neck and severing the jugular, before ripping into the carcass and licking the still warm blood from its lips. No wonder this magnificent beast sits at the top of the food chain.
What’s this got to do with Simon Peter? Just this; about 30 years after Jesus’ public ministry, Peter wrote the following words: “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”
Satan, the enemy of our souls, is a relentless stalker, patiently looking for an opportunity to pounce. He’s real. He’s cunning. He’s ruthless. But we need not live in fear or let the enemy terrorise us. The devil can scheme to harm us all he wants. But Peter goes on to impress on his readers a strategy that anssures our defence. “Resist him,” he says, “resist him, standing firm in the faith.”
We’ll return to that passage in more detail at the end of November, but for now I want to ask a question. How did Peter know all this? I mean, where did Simon Peter learn that Satan behaves like a lion hunting down its unsuspecting prey? What experiences in Peter’s life could he draw on that lead to this conclusion?
And my answer is that I think he learned this truth in the incident he is probably most famous for, his three-fold denial on the night Jesus was betrayed, arrested and tried.
All four Gospels include this incident, differing subtly in emphasis, which allows us to build up a complete picture of what happened.
All four Gospels tell us that Jesus predicts Peter’s denial and that Peter emphatically protests his loyalty, saying he would sooner die with Christ than desert him. All four mention a servant girl. Matthew and Mark highlight how each denial grows in intensity, ending with Peter spitting out oaths and curses. All four mention the cock crowing, though Mark adds that it crowed twice.
Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell how Peter weeps bitterly, a detail John, the briefest report of the four, leaves out.
But, of the four Gospels, Luke’s is the most personal and relational. He brings out the emotional tones a bit more than the others. For example, only Luke includes the poignant scene where Jesus makes eye contact with Peter just as the cock crows, and this is the Gospel account we’ll focus on most this morning.
Let’s start at Luke 22.31. We’re still in the upper room, where we were last Sunday. Jesus has washed his disciples’ feet, as we saw then. He has patiently taught them at great length. The Passover meal has now been eaten. Jesus has broken bread and lifted the cup, speaking of his body and blood. Now, they are just about to leave for the Mount of Olives and Jesus says:
‘Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.’
But he replied, ‘Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death.’
Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, Peter, before the cock crows today, you will deny three times that you know me.’
…They then finish their conversation, leave the upper room, and head off to the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus agonises there as he faces what he knows is to come. He tells his disciples to watch and pray, but they fail to do either, falling asleep on the job. Then Judas appears, leading a detachment from the temple guard with blades and blunt instruments to arrest Jesus. Peter impulsively draws his sword and severs a servant’s ear. Which Jesus heals. Let’s pick it up again in v54.
Then seizing him, they led him away and took him into the house of the high priest. Peter followed at a distance. And when some there had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and had sat down together, Peter sat down with them. A servant-girl saw him seated there in the firelight. She looked closely at him and said, ‘This man was with him.’
But he denied it. ‘Woman, I don’t know him,’ he said.
A little later someone else saw him and said, ‘You also are one of them.’
‘Man, I am not!’ Peter replied.
About an hour later another asserted, ‘Certainly this fellow was with him, for he is a Galilean.’
Peter replied, ‘Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ Just as he was speaking, the cock crowed.
The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: ‘Before the cock crows today, you will disown me three times.’ And he went outside and wept bitterly.
Before we drill down into Peter’s denial, I want to teach into some important things.
Christ’s sovereign foreknowledge
Firstly, let’s pause to appreciate and marvel at Jesus’ total sovereign, prophetic foreknowledge of this entire situation. Jesus knows all about Judas’ planned betrayal. He knows all about the disciples’ imminent mass desertion where their support for him will totally collapse. And, specifically, he knows all about Peter’s denial, not once, not twice, but three times, just hours away.
He has already described to them in detail on at least three prior occasions what will happen to him. He knows he will be handed over to be crucified and that on the third day, he will rise again.
This is nothing to do with intuition or hunch. The Bible is showing us Christ’s perfect omniscience as God the Son, the second person of the Trinity, co-equal with the Father and the Holy Spirit, for all eternity fully God, the divine eternal Word, made flesh.
As we read these words, facing our own failures, our own inadequacies, our own griefs, what good news this is! Luke, inspired by the Holy Spirit, is painting a portrait for us of a Saviour, going to the cross, who sees everything about Peter; all his hollow words, all his empty promises, all his misplaced bravado, and he is surprised by nothing. Because he knows Peter through and through, and he knows all things from beginning to end. The Lord’s wisdom is both intimate and infinite.
Consider this, if you will. If the distance between the earth and the sun (which is 93 million miles) were represented by the width of a sheet of paper, the distance between the earth and the next nearest star (Proxima Centauri) would be a stack of papers 70 feet high.
On this scale, the width of our Milky Way galaxy would be equivalent to a stack of papers 310 miles high. Yet even this unimaginably huge galaxy is like a speck of dust in an immeasurably vast universe.
And the Bible says that Jesus Christ holds this universe, and everything in it, all together by his powerful word. He holds all things. He rules all things. He knows all things.
He knows why I blew it yesterday. He knows how I will let him down today. He knows what I will make a complete hash of tomorrow. And, just as Jesus was still willing and ready to go to the cross for Peter, so is his love endlessly patient and steadfastly unwavering for us. Take that in!
In the early 1960s, a young evangelist called David Wilkerson started a ministry called Teen Challenge that would eventually see thousands of armed gangsters and junkies converted and set free from their addictions. But his book The Cross and the Switchblade tells how his first visit to New York City to try and engage with the criminal underworld was a disaster.
Through a big misunderstanding, he found himself arrested by the police which became big news. He saw his photo on the front pages of the papers. Far from making an impact on the city, he became a laughingstock instead. The humiliation almost led him to give up before he had really begun.
Where’s the wisdom and sovereignty of God in that embarrassing failure? But less than a week later, he felt God speak to him as he prayed, and the Lord said, “Go back to New York.” After three days of protesting to God and excuses, he reluctantly returned and made contact with those gangs again.
Amazingly, he found that the doors which had been slammed in his face earlier were now wide open for him right across the city. Because the gangs could now relate to him in a way they never could before. “The cops don’t like you; the cops don’t like us either,” they said. Now, suddenly he was like one of them. God had made a way.
You see how the all-knowing sovereignty of God can assure blessing in your life, even after apparent failure? The Lord knows. And the Lord reigns. Are you trusting him for your future?
Satan’s strategic targeting
The second thing I want to underline here before we look at the denial itself is the demonic targeting of leadership.
“Simon, Simon,” says Jesus, “Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail.”
The ‘you’ in v31 is plural. The NIV has helpfully translated this for us as “All of you.” So Jesus is saying here that Satan asked to sift as wheat not just Peter but all the disciples.
Satan is real, he is more powerful than us, and we must take him seriously. But he has to crawl and ask permission from God to afflict us, and he cannot go an inch further than the Lord permits. So, if Satan’s grovelling request doesn’t align with the Lord’s sovereign purposes to sharpen us and train us in righteousness and make us more holy, that permission will be denied.
I want you to notice that the devil’s strategy here is to attack the whole group by targeting their future leader and front man, Peter. That’s why Jesus switches from plural ‘you’ to singular ‘you’ in v32, “But I have prayed for you, Simon.”
Do you see what it’s saying here? This is really important. If Satan topples the leader, he can bring down the whole group. If he takes out the pastor, he can ruin the whole church. Zechariah 13.7 says, “Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.”
This is why the New Testament says, “Remember your leaders.” In four of Paul’s 13 letters, he specifically asks his readers to pray for him, and in another three letters he mentions that they already are praying for him.
Brothers, sisters, pray that all who lead in various ways at King’s will fight the good fight of faith against the enemy. I know some of you pray for us daily; thank you for your prayers, we need them – and we feel them.
What does “sifting as wheat” mean here? “Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat.” The answer comes in the following sentence where Jesus says, “But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail.” So, sifting as wheat means a demonic attack which is designed to wreck the disciples’ faith.
And Jesus is confident that his prayer will be answered, because he says, “And when [not if] when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”
Jesus knows that Peter’s faith will fail, as we’ll see in a moment, but he also knows it will not fail totally and finally. Why? Because he has prayed that it won’t.
Peter’s tragic failure
So, two thirds into this sermon, we finally get round to the denials themselves. Peter impulsively promises in v33 he will never abandon Jesus, even if it means imprisonment or dying with him.
Never is one of Peter’s favourite words. You shall never go to the cross. You will never wash my feet! I will never disown you. And each time Peter is wrong. Never say never!
How do you feel when you make promises you fail to keep? You feel wretched, don’t you? Of course you do.
Peter’s denials are among the most relatable moments in the Gospels, because they speak directly to our human flaws, our fears, our failures. The truth is though that, thanks be to God, we can all still have a future.
All four Gospels agree that the first denial comes in response to an observation from a servant girl. John adds the detail that she is a doorkeeper in the high priest’s private residence. It’s night. It’s cold. So, Peter stands near a fire to try and keep warm.
The girl looks intently at him, staring at his face. No charges have been made against the disciples, so there is no reason at all why Peter should feel the need to defend himself. He’s not on trial.
But Peter is tired and stressed and cold. And fear overcomes him, so he denies any knowledge of Jesus. Mark adds that at this point, Peter physically distances himself, moving out to the entryway.
What do you fear as a Christian? What makes you distance yourself from Christ?
My observation is that Christians are often reluctant to say what they really think about the uniqueness of Christ, about human sexuality and about gender because they fear it may lead to vilification, personal attacks, loss of employment and so on.
Political campaigns, the media, business and even some church people relentlessly drive a narrative that attacks and mocks what God says. That can feel lonely and intimidating.
In many places the desire to fit in is stronger than the decision to stand out. Are we allowing fear to push us into permanent silent retreat? Doesn’t the Bible speak with sufficient clarity about these things?
Where do we go with this kind of fearfulness? Psalm 34.4 says, “I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.” Bring your fears and insecurities to God. And claim his promise of taking that fear away.
The second denial, v58, comes a little later, and this time it’s a man in a nearby group who challenges him. Luke shows that the pressure ramps up a bit because he goes beyond what the servant girl says. Peter wasn’t just “with” Jesus. He was “one of them.” This isn’t just a matter of inadvertent physical proximity. Peter is being closely associated with Jesus’ traveling band. He is an insider.
Peter denies it again. “Man, I am not,” he protests. Yes, you are, Peter. You have been part of that band for three and a half years. That’s a lie, Peter. The devil is a liar from the beginning and the father of lies. When we lie, we sound like the devil. The devil who is, at that very moment, trying to sift Peter like wheat.
Each denial ramps up in intensity. The third one is more serious than the second, which is more serious than the first. By this time, an hour or so later, Jesus has been moved from his preliminary hearing with Annas to his trial before Caiaphas. There’s an ominous sense that this night is going very badly.
Luke tells us that the next accuser, not just suggests, but insists that Peter is connected to Jesus. He is adamant. “Certainly,” he says. “His northern accent gives him away.” John adds that this third accuser is related to the servant whose ear Peter has earlier severed with a blade. No doubt he is very upset. “If I find the man who did that to you, I’ll kill him.” You can well imagine him saying that.
No wonder Peter sounds like he is panicking at this point. He strenuously denies all knowledge of what this stranger says. Mark and Matthew add that Peter backs up his denial with a string of oaths, swearing to God he doesn’t know what he’s going on about.
God’s transformative grace
And as the words leave his lips, the cock crows. Then, what drama; Jesus turns at that very instant and his eyes meet Peter’s.
What do you think that look communicates? Judgement? Bitterness? I told you so? Pain? Sorrow? Disappointment? A blank stare?
Surely, it’s the look of love. The face of grace. Because that glance across the courtyard does not crush Peter into depression and despair. It melts him into repentance and renewal.
Peter heads off into the night, weeping bitterly. He is distraught. His remorse and anguish and heartbreak pull him down to what must surely be the lowest point in his entire life.
But look, no failure, however bad, need be final with God. Turning to Jesus in repentance opens wide the door for forgiveness, healing and restoration.
As we’ll see in detail next week, this threefold denial is not going to be the last word. There is grace.
And Jesus will come to him, as he comes to every one of us today. Not with an angry confrontation over how badly he messed up. Not with not with a tut and a rolling of the eyes about how much of a letdown Peter and we turned out to be. But with a simple question; “do you love me?” Do you? Do you love the Lord?
The Jewish thinker Rabbi David Aaron once sighed and said, “I wish I could love the greatest saint like the Lord loves the greatest sinner.” Oh, so do I.
Ending
I noticed a title in a Christian bookshop once called Has Christianity Failed You? It was a book written for disaffected people who don’t do church anymore because they feel that church has let them down.
Sometimes our expectations are not met because those expectations were unrealistic in the first place. But sadly, churches can - and do - fail people. Leaders can disenchant and members can disappoint. Every Christian can, like Peter, deny the Lord in many, many ways.
The church may have failed you in the past; it probably has. But Jesus and the gospel fail no one. Like Peter, every saint has a past. But like Peter, every sinner can have a future.
It’s why Jesus says in v32, after your personal crash, after your denials, after your bitter weeping, after your running away in shame, Jesus says, “When you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”
He means, strengthen them with your testimony as a restored failure. Strengthen them when you tell them how good it is to be forgiven. Strengthen them when you explain to them no matter how faithless we are, he remains faithful. Strengthen them with hope and with belief that no matter how lost you are, with Jesus there is always a way back.
Sermon preached at King's Church Darlington, 5 October 2025.
